


Left my Heart

by TheMulletWhisperer



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst, Big MT, Dead Money, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Old World Blues (Mentioned), Post-Dead Money
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-03 04:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10959699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMulletWhisperer/pseuds/TheMulletWhisperer
Summary: Presley awakes amid a recurring dream of a love she left behind.Some stories have good endings, and others bad. This one? She still can't decide.





	1. Chapter 1

In the Sierra Madre, that place came back to Presley in her dreams. There were… varied themes, but it also never deviated. The ghost people, limping from the Cloud all around them, no escape, no hope. Trapped in that vault beneath the Sierra Madre, clutching to those infernal bars of gold while Elijah had his laugh. Sometimes even those damnable holograms. But not tonight. Tonight was no different than most, something that overcame the fear of being dragged off by the ghost people, being trapped in that vault forever, the silent guardians of the long-dead...no, tonight’s dream--just as the previous night’s, and the one before that--was of Christine.

She knew that it might be wrong. Even as Veronica slept a room over from her, she lay, unable to return to her sleep at the thought of the scarred beauty she’d pulled out of the Empty’s auto-doc for a second time. First, Y-17, then Sierra Madre. Veronica’s old flame. 

Ever since Presley had heard that voice out in the Big Empty on the holotapes scattered about, she was enraptured before even knowing the woman’s name. Even after the Madre, though, after her face had been carved up and her voice had changed, that person was still there, the one she’d fallen in love with over a few measly tapes. 

It was all wrong, all on so many levels. She felt like she was letting herself down, being so easily enraptured, betraying Veronica, and more than anything, convincing herself that it would’ve ended well.

Nothing ever did for her, ever since she’d been born. Call it genetics or luck, she didn’t know. Shot in the head, suffered from temporary amnesia, even accidentally nuking an entire civilization. On top of all that, the one person she’d begun to care about in a sense beyond mere camaraderie or friendship, the one she’d adored from so far away and only met for the briefest of times remained in the Sierra Madre, alone. Trapped, some might say.

Those first few days after she’d finally escaped, Presley waited in that bunker. Partially to recuperate, and partially in hopes that Christine would miraculously show up. No such luck. 

She wasn’t entirely sure why she hadn’t returned. Perhaps the holograms had gotten to her, perhaps the ghost people, she wasn’t sure. It would hurt even more to know she’d decided to stay there, to leave her behind in order to guard a dead city.

That thought was quickly pushed out of her head in favor of happier ones, tears prickling in her eyes already. Every night she had these dreams, dreams of Christine returning to her, showing up at the Lucky 38, every night she would repeat the cycle. Nearly crying, pushing those thoughts away...to say she was miserable was an understatement, but also happy. An odd combination, but a true one.

Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, the Courier swung her legs over the edge of the bed, stretching and grabbing the clothes she’d haphazardly thrown onto the floor out of pure exhaustion the night before. First came the shirt, sewn in a permanent roll that stopped at the elbows, but otherwise no different than most shirts. Next, the pants. Traditional grunt clothes, albeit with a spade embroidered onto the hip with the words  _ “Lucky 38” _ within the outline. A gift from House that had replaced her old, bloodstained pants. It brought her more pause when considering what to do with him when it finally came down to that moment.

Pushing up to her feet, she tread across the remarkably clean carpets of the Presidential Suite--the work of both Yes Man and the late Victor, she presumed. Barefooted, the soft fabric was far more pleasant on the soles of her feet than any boot was. The sensation always took her away from the tributes she hung on the wall. A painting of House she’d taken from his penthouse, the tags of every NCR and Brotherhood soldier she’d found dead, even Benny’s suit. No matter how much they deserved to die, no matter that she killed them to save others, they were still people. Thought it always brought her sadness to look at the memorabilia from those dead, it reminded her that it was worth fighting for to stop those deaths from being necessary. Some nights, she needed that, but tonight was not that.

Her eyes focused on anything she could find, the computer terminal, the corroded globe she’d pulled out of the Nipton townhouse, the stacks of pre-war books she was attempting to preserve that overflowed on the shelves, something that wouldn’t remind her of the tragedy of the wastelands.

However, she was pulled out of this trance as she crossed the room to the door. Rex’s mechanical bark was the first thing she heard as she reached for the handle. Someone could be heard through the wall jumping out of bed in a panic--no doubt Arcade. All this distracted her from the fact that the door’s handle was turning on its own, and the edge struck the bridge of her nose.

More shocked than hurt, Presley recoiled and pressed her thumb and forefinger to her nose, wincing slightly before she realized that she wasn’t actually hurt. “Ugh, sorry about that, I was--” The Courier stood and was immediately assaulted by someone. At first, threatening, but the soft lips on hers signalled that it probably wasn’t a hitman. Probably. 

Hesitant to return the surprise kiss until she was sure who it was, Presley simply blinked a few times before pulling back to get a good look at her ‘assailant’. 

The first thing she noticed was those striking blue eyes, then the bald head and the scars. Certain for a few moments that her eyes were playing tricks on her, she reached up and touched the other woman’s face with both hands, cupping her cheeks and running her thumbs over the scars. “C-Christine? Is...it really…” She’d already answered the question she was just getting ready to finish, as did the trespasser.

“Feel free to feel away, I’m real.”

Presley felt a lump build in her throat and butterflies flap in her stomach, but she quickly swallowed them down, going in to make up for that lost kiss. 

And then, she was cut off. A voice at the door.

“Christine?!”


	2. Chapter 2

Presley froze as Veronica’s voice cut through her mind like a cosmic knife. In all the post-heist jumble she’d...forgotten? 

No, she hadn’t forgotten. She made certain that Veronica got Elijah’s holotapes, she never told Veronica because this wasn’t expected. She didn’t know that Christine would return. Even then...even then it was dubious. The Courier, brave as she was in the face of mortal danger, was deathly afraid of backlash from her friends, no matter how close they were. By now she should’ve learned her lesson, should’ve known it’d come back to bite her sooner or later. God knows it’d happened before.

Although she wasn’t sure what was running through Christine’s head at the time, the look on her face told Presley that it was that familiar panic. At almost the same moment, as if their minds had been linked (Not a long shot, considering they both had the same tech in place of brains), the two turned to face Veronica, whose expression was somewhere between shock and hurt. “You two are...and you didn’t tell me you were even…” The scribe stuttered, her eyes darting between the two.

“Shii--I mean, dang.” The Courier whispered under her breath within hearing range of everyone in the immediate area, Christine raising a brow across at her and Veronica scowling ever so slightly. Even that little twitch sent pangs of guilt and fear through Presley’s chest, but she pushed forward, through her intense desire to flee. “I uh...have...what do I do here, what can I sa--” Her words were cut off by the sight of Boone’s beret peeking out from the kitchen doorway across the hall, and the brim of Cass’ hat from the bedroom’s doorway. On top of all that, she recalled ED-E’s tendency to ‘listen in’ on any conversations in his vicinity.  Turning her attention back to the developing situation, she began picking at her nails. “We should...let’s go down to the Cocktail Lounge, it’s quieter down there.”

Not waiting for a response, she took off in a near-run to the elevator, mashing the ‘down’ button until the elevator doors opened with a  _ ding _ . The other two women piled in after the rushing Courier, who pushed the Cocktail Lounge’s floor with a force that probably would’ve broken the panel if it were any stronger.

As the elevator lurched into motion, gently and smoothly lowering the three, total, uncomfortable and tense silence reigned in the metal capsule, Christine standing next to Presley with Veronica rather far behind the two. Not daring to look back, Six refused to so much as move her head, only her eyes flitting about the interior of the elevator.

Once the doors slid open with a second  _ ding _ , the lift itself seemed to let out a sigh of relief as the three exited onto the lounge floor, surrounded by alcohol, casino chips, and total silence that followed them into the room. A silence that persisted for several seconds before Christine finally spoke up, “Veronica, listen, I didn’t know--” She was cut off quickly by the upset Scribe, “Didn’t know what, Christine?”

“Didn’t know you were still around, I thought maybe you’d moved on, been kicked out of the Chapter, something. I didn’t figure…” Christine trailed off, tilting her head down a bit before continuing, “I’m sorry I hurt you but I thought we agreed that it was over when I went after Elijah and you stayed in the Mojave.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still here, Christine. I know we broke up but,” Veronica sighed deeply, shaking her head, “I would’ve at least liked a courtesy call, you know?” Catching Presley’s attempt to put her two cents in, the Scribe turned towards her companion, “And you, Pres, how long has… this been going on?”

Shrinking back, the Courier fiddled with her index finger, a classic sign of severe nerves. “Do you...I assume you want the truth.”

“Of course I want the truth.”

“Well… um… we met in the Sierra Madre,” Veronica seemed visibly shocked at this information, counting over how long ago Presley had been trapped there before the question was answered for her, “So… a month?” The admission was squeaked out, the brave Courier reduced to a wincing mouse in the face of adversity for the first time since she’d arrived in Nevada. 

“A...A month?” Veronica whispered the words back to herself, pressing her fingers to her eyes. “Shit, and you didn’t even  _ tell _ me? You gave me Elijah’s holotape but you couldn’t be bothered to tell me that you were with my old girlfriend?”

Shutting her eyes, Presley took a deep breath, “I know, I’m sorry, it’s just... I didn’t know how you were going to take it, I didn’t even know how to break it to you and I didn’t even think Christine was coming back from the Casino. I’m really,  _ really _ sorry, Veronica, I didn’t want you to learn this way. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was just… scared to lose a friend.” She drew her lips into a thin line, sighing through her nose and peeking her eyes open to get a look at Veronica’s face, who looked torn now.

“Well, just… don’t lie to me like this, Pres, okay? Christine is fair game but--uh, no offense, Christie. I just don’t like being lied to by my friends, I deal with enough of that from the Brotherhood.” 

With a deep breath and a sigh of relief, Presley smiled and straightened her back, looking over to Christine for a quick moment to note her mirrored expression before returning her gaze to her companion. “I promise I won’t lie again, Ronnie. You know I don’t like lying anyway. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah sorry I woke you guys up, I didn’t know anyone would be in there other than Presley.” Christine interjected with a little chuckle, which was reciprocated by Veronica. 

“Alright, I’ll leave you two down here to do it or whatever you’re going to do. I have to go delete ED-E’s audio recordings and tell Arcade to shut up.”

  
With a wave that carried renewed cheer, Veronica turned back and stepped into the waiting elevator, the doors sliding shut shortly after and leaving the two new lovers alone to their own devices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully there will be a chapter 3 to this where the two lovers actually get some screen time, assuming I can find the motivation that seems perpetually lost behind the fridge along with my life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more I write this the longer it gets. This chapter was short but hopefully the next one will be longer. Maybe.

Presley sat on the grimy cobblestone of the courtyard, quietly flipping a chip in her hand. The ghostly song of the fountain’s hologram echoed through the empty streets of the villa, and every few minutes she could swear a flash of green cut through the thick Cloud in the alleyways. Even if, she felt...relatively secure in these so-called ‘Ghost People's aversion to the technological ghosts of the town. 

From the other side of the fountain, she could hear Dean and God speaking with one-another, one contributing witty putdowns and the other speaking in threats disguised as vague philosophy. The only one who wasn’t annoying was sitting right next to her. Christine, Elijah had said her name was. She wasn’t sure how truthful he was, but based on what she’d heard and seen in the Think Tank, it was well enough possible. After all, Elijah had showed up here as well. 

Glancing over at the scarred mute, Presley felt the unpleasant reminder of her little ‘contract’ with the maniac from the Brotherhood. The speaker on her collar cut into the flesh of her neck, forcing an involuntary wince from the woman. In typical fashion, however, she brushed it off and offered her hand over to Christine, smiling tentatively. “Hey there, didn’t get a chance to introduce myself. Name’s Presley, and I assume you’re Christine?”

The scribe smiled politely for only a moment before giving a confused look, pointing to Presley and then herself, before tapping her temple. It took a solid few seconds for the Courier to figure it out before her face lit up in recognition, “Oh, well, uh…” She coughed and looked away, realizing how creepy what she was going to say was about to sound. “I’m sure you remember Big Mountain?” Christine furrowed her brow curiously and nodded, waving her hand in a circle. “Yeah, those brain-iacs--” Presley cut herself off for a moment to snort at her own joke, quickly regaining her composure expertly, “anyway, they abducted me and set me off on some quest to pull them out of the crap. I might’ve gone rogue, done a bit of exploring. You and Elijah left behind a couple of tapes before you bugged out. You have a really nice--” She managed to stop herself, eyes wide at what she’d caught herself about to say, “Uh! Breasts! I mean--really...gun!” 

Mortified and leaving behind a bewildered Christine, Presley stood up quick enough to kick up some laden grime on her way up, dirtying the legs of her jumpsuit and circling around to the other side of the fountain and clapped Dean on the shoulder, making him jump. “Heeeey there Dean-o! How are you...doing?” She looked over her shoulder nervously and spotted Christine looking around in confusion. 

Snapping her head back to Dean with a bit too much gusto, she chuckled oddly at the look he was giving her, before noticing that God was giving her the same look. The fact that everything had gone totally silent save for the song ringing through the courtyard didn’t help much either. “Okay...well, we should probably get to it then! God, c’mon, looks like we’re going to the...switching station.”   


Grabbing her holorifle that leaned against the fountain, she jogged off towards the cloud, almost eager to find some ghost people. 


	4. Chapter 4

Once Veronica left, Presley stood in place, staring awkwardly at Christine and shifting her weight several times before the command to move from the tesla coils in her head reached her legs and she turned around, crouching down and rummaging around in the bottles under the bar. “Come on, let’s talk, yeah? Take a seat over by the uh…” She motioned to the windows that lined the walls and looked out over the Nopah mountain range. Wordlessly, Christine approached the sitting area and waited patiently for the Courier. 

Meanwhile, a cacophony of clanking and clinking  drifted from behind the bar, far more than someone grabbing a couple of beers. The reason for these sounds soon became self-evident as Presley appeared holding a crate full of Sunset Sarsaparilla bottles--at  _ least _ 70--and carried them over to the table, setting the box down and grabbing one for herself. “C’mon, I’m trying to find those blue star thingies.”

Christine stared at the sodas for a few seconds before turning her eyes to Presley. “Why, exactly?” In response, the Courier raised a brow as she popped the cap off with no effort whatsoever, “Uh, because there’s a treasure?” She turned the cap over and pumped her fist, setting it down on the arm of her chair. “So anyway! What was going on, why were you gone for so long?"   


Grabbing a soda for herself, the scribe reclined in her seat and popped the cap off, checking the underside before tossing it onto the table--the first of the ‘discard’ pile. “If I’m gonna be honest, I don’t totally know. I just...wanted to stay, I guess, get shit in order. Elijah’s dead, everything was kind of over before it started. If anything, I needed to clear my head,” She took a swig from her--surprisingly cold--drink before continuing, “figure everything out.”

“Like…?” Presley had already finished her first soda, grabbing another one, twisting the cap off, and tossing it on the discard pile once she was certain it wasn’t what she was looking for. 

“Like what I was going to do if I did go back. I can’t read or write anymore, so I can’t be a scribe, and after I disappeared like that on the Brotherhood, I doubt they’d take me back. Like us. Like… like a lot of things.” Idly, she traced the scars on her throat, pushing down the thoughts of her own voice being unfamiliar to her.

After a pause, Presley gave a hesitant nod, tensing and relaxing in time with her thoughts. “Yeah? And you...decided good things about the two of us, right?” She was obviously considerably anxious, shifting in her chair every second or two.

Trying her best at a reassuring smile, Christine nodded, folding forward, resting her arms on her knees, and extending her free hand in a gesture of comfort--an opportunity Presley snapped at like a hungry shark. “I decided good things about us two, yeah, don’t worry. I wouldn’t have kissed you when I saw you if I hadn’t”

Turning ever so slightly pink at the memory, the Courier smiled sheepishly, “That’d… that’d make sense.” 

“Still feeling awkward after that little fountain conversation, huh?” Christine let go of Presley’s hand and snickered, once again sinking back into the chair and taking another sip of her drink.

“Wh--hey!” The Courier shouted indignantly, scowling playfully. “I already told you, that was a mistake, I was trying to compliment your voice and I forgot what I was doing and then that happened and--” She was cut off by Christine sitting down on the arm of her chair, leaning in a bit closer than would be necessary for a conversation. In her flustered attempt to explain herself, she’d missed the Scribe standing up and walking across the sitting area. 

“See, what I like to call it is a slip-up. Said something you were thinking.” Christine smirked and leaned a bit closer, holding back a snicker as Presley turned bright red. “So, am I right? Were you actually thinking that?” She reached down to brush the cheek of the paralyzed woman with the back of her fingers.

Still getting no response, she stood up, Presley following her intently with her eyes. “Well, in that case, maybe I should give you a closer look.”

Trailing her hands down her torso, she crossed her arms, grabbed the hems of her shirt, and pulled it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know all the attention is going to go to the fact that I left you all on a cliffhanger like that, but I think the thing that should really be paid attention to is the fact that I spent fifteen minutes trying to locate the name of the Nopah range on Google Maps.

**Author's Note:**

> It was either this or a many-thousand-word story about murdering Legion. Hopefully this is good enough for you, DAD


End file.
